My mother came from Iran, my father from Iraq. They met at my mother’s home in Be’er Sheva during the 1960s. They fell in love despite my grandparents’ vehement disapproval. After four years, having no more power to resist, they agreed to the marriage. But the years of fantasy shattered in the face of reality. My father couldn’t quite assimilate, and every few years declared bankruptcy. My parents remained in the old and neglected neighborhood, in one house, but at distant ends of the heart. Asmar tells the story of my parents’ long-ago, wild love affair; the letters, pictures, their secret meeting places, and their current reality. I get to meet them all over again, as human beings: vulnerable, dreamers, lovers.